


Northampton.

by Damien



Series: Magnetic Course. [14]
Category: Cabin Pressure
Genre: Consider the next chapter the end if you don't like angst, Don't try to drunkenly add notes, Fluff, I typed couldld've like five times, M/M, Seriously this is fluff, the fluff before the serious angst
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-10-26
Updated: 2017-10-26
Packaged: 2019-01-23 17:39:28
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,444
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/12512704
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Damien/pseuds/Damien
Summary: Martin Crieff isn't sure he can handle the truth, after all.





	Northampton.

**Author's Note:**

> Originally, this was meant to be a series of little tiny drabbles but it took on a life of its own with this particular plot point. I could've made it probably five chapters by cutting out details here and there, but the alternating POV would've made it not work quite as well, and I honestly really like this chapter.
> 
> I hope you all can enjoy this, even if it's a ton longer than it was meant to be. I believe S is the other long chapter, but we're probably about a week off of it being posted.

“What happened last night?” a teary-eyed, pink-faced Martin asks, pinning Douglas to the spot with pain so clearly filling his eyes. The hand detangling his hair stops quickly, and Douglas looks him in the face, simultaneously a little embarrassed yet resigned.

“Martin, I assure you that last night, all that happened was you got sloppy drunk, vomited out your body weight in alcohol, then I assisted you in showering, dressed you, then,” Douglas gestures to the bed, “Laid you down in the bed, insisted you put some paracetamol into you, and let you sleep.”

“Nothing else?” Martin asks, voice as thin as a razors edge.

“Last night? I may have mocked your drink choices, but otherwise I do believe that was the extent of our interaction.” Douglas quirks an eyebrow, wondering what Martin is getting at.

“So you didn’t kiss me? We didn’t… Oh God.” Martin gags, anxiety sending his nausea through the roof.

“I do believe, now that you mention it, I may have placed a peck on your temple, although I was fairly certain you were, uh, a little too preoccupied to notice. I apologize if that was offensive to you.”

Martin stares blankly, face covered in question marks as surely as if they had been painted on.

“Please, Martin, just ask. I can hear the hamster in that wheel running your brain screaming all the way over here.” Douglas grips his knees tightly, knuckles turning white. “You want to ask about Budapest again, I presume?”

At the word, Martin’s features go cold and that same, glassy-eyed look forms over his face. “Explain.” Martin commands in his best Captain Martin Crieff voice.

Douglas swallows, staring at his own hands. “Alright, Martin. I’ll explain.” A look of pain creases his features, and he meets Martin’s gaze. “I may have avoided exercising proper restraint. You see, you were quite inebriated and flirty. In fact, I am fairly certain you grabbed my bum no less than five times in front of Carolyn.”

A sound of self-loathing rises from the blankets as Martin buries himself, recounting silently every single interaction with his boss since then.

“I was surprised,” Douglas continues, not acknowledging the turmoil next to him. “I would have bet every paycheck I’ve ever and will ever receive that you had no interest in me.” Douglas stares down at his hands, shaking despite the tight grip.

Martin pokes his head out, staring at his First Officer in a new light, with a look meant to convey ‘Please continue.’

Douglas smiles weakly at Martin, then continues. “You were starting to act a little too erratically, and the bartender requested of everyone who seemed to know you that they help you back to your room.” Douglas closes his eyes tight, moisture causing his lashes to glisten. “So, I helped you back to your room. I should’ve known better, I've been that drunk, I mean, we bloody work in a flying bus together, trapped in like sardines. I should’ve just let you sleep it off, but…”

As he trails off, Martin stares at Douglas with a slight edge of anger seeping into his expression, begging the older man to not stop..

“I… I let you kiss me. It was like drinking a pixie stick, but it was you. I ignored every single alarm and siren going off in my head, and… took advantage of your drunken lack of inhibitions, I’m afraid.”

Martin stares, the look of pain as plain on his face as though Douglas had just shot him. “So… you, uh, you… had…” Martin gulps audibly, “You had int-intercourse, with me obviously, and…”

Douglas nods, opens his mouth to respond, then sees the raw hurt and shuts his mouth, letting Martin speak uninterrupted.

“Then, instead of admitting to me that we… canoodled, instead you… You… You let me believe that I had gone off the deep end!" Martins voice ramps up, going from hurt and quiet to enraged and loud quickly. "You let me think that I was turning some dream into reality, and that my mind was all wrong! You convinced me that I was wrong, mistaken, by just pretending that NOTHING happened!” Martin roars, sitting up straight and pulling the blanket tight around him, anger only dissipating a little when the silent tears running down Douglas’s face fall onto the blanket, darkening those spots.

“Yes.” Douglas states plainly, every ounce of emotion stripped from his hollow sounding voice. “I am scum. I apologize.”

Standing, Martin paces back and forth, thankful that today is a day off and he can process this without being forced to sit next to the man sobbing on the floor. His fingers run up to his hair, twisting and pulling at the curls as he thinks. ‘What do I do?’ Martin keeps asking silently. ‘How do I respond?’ he wonders, staring at the man sobbing near-silently on the floor next to the bed. “When were you planning to tell me?” Martin asks, voice purposefully devoid of anger. “I’ve been working almost twice as much as usual just to keep my mind off of this, to stop from wondering.”

A hiccuping sob passes Douglas’s lips, and he clenches his jaw, trying to force himself to stop crying. “I… I was hoping you wouldn’t remember at all, the next day.” Another hiccuping sound, a sniffle, and a terrycloth sleeve across his face later, Douglas turns, red eyed, to Martin. “I knew I destroyed any chance of an ‘us’ once I woke up that next morning. I had assumed that you would regard me like a rapist, if I’m being frank.”

Attempting to break the mood due to his discomfort with seeing the First Officer like this, Martin mumbles, “No, you’re not being Frank, just be Doug.”

A single hysterical bark of laughter escapes from Douglas, who returns to sobbing almost immediately. “Oh, God, Martin. You shouldn’t be the one comforting me. If anything, you should be throwing me out and insisting that I quit on the spot.”

Twisting the edge of his t-shirt in his fists as he paces, Martin closes his eyes and breathes deeply. “I…” he begins, emotion choking him up. “I don’t want you to quit.” His pacing quickens, and he goes back to fidgeting with his hair. “I don’t want you to leave, I just want to understand.”

Douglas holds out a hand, and Martin takes it, sitting on the arm chair between Douglas and the large window. “I deserve worse.” Douglas states as plainly as if he were mentioning the rain. “Please, Martin, hit me or something. Tell me I am worthless, that you hate me, anything.”

Martin tilts his head, watching the last metaphorical traces of pride and ego leave the sobbing man. “I can’t, honestly.”

“Martin, how can you not hate me? I violated your trust, your consent, even your body.” At this, Douglas begins hyperventilating, and puts his head between his knees. “Oh, God. I can’t believe how disgusting I am.”

Sliding to the floor, Martin wraps his arms around the shuddering mass of First Officer Richardson, rubbing his back through the thick robe. “Please, Douglas. Please.” Martin begs, not sure entirely of what he’s pleading for. When bloodshot, tear-filled eyes meet his, he allows his body to go onto autopilot, any semblance of who they were before evaporated. Trembling slightly, Martin lifts the perfect jaw of his companion, fingers stroking the slight stubble, and presses a kiss onto the mans mouth before rational thought can kick in.

Stillness takes over Douglas’s entire body, even his heart, he’s pretty sure. He knows he deserves the opposite of this, maybe to lose a tooth or two, but relaxes into the kiss to enjoy it as much as he can while it lasts.

Martin pulls back, reading the need in those beautiful eyes. Leaning in again, he deepens the kiss, awkwardly trying to add tongue to a kiss with someone who isn’t really even kissing back.

When Martin’s tongue rubs against him, it’s like a spell on Douglas breaks. Thumbs gently stroking Martin’s cheeks, hands ghosting over his jaw, Douglas pulls Martin closer, pouring every iota of love, adoration, and need into his kiss. When a quiet moan comes up from Martin’s throat, he ignores it. When Martin pushes himself as close as possible, Douglas avoids acknowledging it, fearing this perfection may just be a dream. When Martin climbs up onto his lap, fists clinging to the robe, Douglas holds his Captain as tight to him as he can. Every emotion since Martin met the older man is poured into kissing Douglas like their lives are riding on this. As far as Martin is concerned, they do.

**Author's Note:**

> In the first draft, right here was a ton of mediocre smut that ruined the plot. Instead, you get needy kisses and clinging and stuff. I hope y'all like it.
> 
> P.S. I was gonna post it on the 24th, my birthday, but I ended up getting busy so any love would be extra appreciated.


End file.
